One Morning
by poppyclover
Summary: Randall and Angela spend a night together and are big dorks when they wake up the next morning.


After she slowly opened her eyes, it took Angela one confused minute to realize that this was most definitely not her room, another minute to remember that it was, in fact, Randall Ascot's, and yet another to realize that if she were to roll over, she would find him sleeping next to her, probably snoring. In another few minutes she remember that she had come over the night before to visit, as Randall's father was away on a business trip. They were able to spend a quiet evening just enjoying each other's company, though eventually it became so late that both were exhausted and were too tired to return her to her house. After a lengthy debate ("I'm too tired to walk you back, Ange." "Alright, if you so heavily insist, then I suppose I have no choice but to stay."), a conclusion was reached.

They wandered up to the third story and came upon the terrible tragedy that the guest room was unfit for guests at the present moment. ("I have to tell you that I've recently contracted an awful disease that requires me to sleep next to beautiful blondes whose names are Angela. It's a very serious condition! I could die." "Oh, well we can't have that.") So, as to preserve the life Randall Ascot, a beautiful blonde whose name was Angela changed her clothes with a shirt of his and joined him in his bed for the night.

Now awake the next morning, Angela was trying to resist the urge to fall back to sleep by fixing her eyes on the soft gray clouds outside of the window and listening to the muffled footsteps which came from the lower levels of the house. When she was suddenly aware of a slight chill in the room, she pulled the covers up over her shoulders and breathed a sigh. She turned over so as to move closer to Randall for warmth, but she stopped when she beheld him and had to stifle her laughter. Red hair flying this way and that, wrinkled shirt, eyebrows slightly furrowed, and drooling slightly. What a dreamboat.

She moved closer to him, cupped her hand to her mouth, and whispered into his ear, "Randall…Raaaaandall…You lazy thing. Wake up." No reaction.

The fact that he was completely unaware of whatever she might disclose to him made her smile to herself. Angela leaned in again. "Oh Randall…you sound like an elephant when you snore, you know. It's a wonder I get any sleep with you around! And you drool like Niagara Falls as well. Not to mention you're lazy, foolish, reckless... How it is to put up with you! I can hardly believe that it's been ten years. Ten years of staying up late to help you study, caring for you when you're sick, bandaging your bloody knees, following you on all your adventures… Do you know how much you make me worry?"

At this her smile slowly fell and she hesitated, but continued, softer this time. "Do you know how much I love you? Ten years…the summer afternoons on the hill, walking home in the rain, teaching me to dance in your kitchen…perfectly ordinary moments, I suppose…but they mean the world to me. Every laugh, every word of yours is dear to me. There is no one I adore more. You've always been there when I'm crying, or scared, or alone. I can never repay you for all that you've done for me. Thank you."

Angela breathed a sigh and then propped herself up on her arms to look down at his face. Damn, still out cold. Looking at him, she couldn't help smiling once again. "It's alright that you're a drooling, disheveled mess though," she whispered. "I love you anyway. Most dearly." Then she gently placed a hand on his cheek and then did the only logical thing an impatient girlfriend would do and kissed him awake.

Waking up without able to breathe is anything but romantic and it took him a moment to realize what was happening. She could feel him tense and then relax beneath her, his arms sliding loosely around her waist.

When their lips parted, the first thing he said was, "If this is a dream, can we _please_ go farther than that?"

"Go back to sleep, I liked you better when you were unconscious," she said as she rolled her eyes and lay back down next to him, crossing her arms.

"Definitely not Dream Angela…" Randall said as he turned on his side to face her.

"_Implying that I would say differently in your dreams_."

"Implying that your hair looks like you just walked through a tornado, _and_ we have morning breath, yet I have never felt more attracted to you…_and_ you _are_ not wearing any bottoms."

"Randall!" she exclaimed, burying her face in the pillow to hide its redness.

"I don't even get as much as a 'good morning' out of you."

"You don't deserve it. You're horrible."

"You don't mean that!" he laughed.

"Yes I do. You're the absolute worst."

He turned so that he was on his back again. "'And that is how she broke my heart at the tender age of seventeen!'" he said dramatically.

A muffled laugh could be heard from within the pillow. "Fine," she said as she emerged from its depths and kissed his cheek before setting her head in the crook of his neck. "Good morning."

He chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist. "It_ is_ a good morning! Sleep alright?"

"Yes. Dreamless, actually!"

"That's always good!"

"Mhm…"

She breathed a sigh and felt herself relax. As she grew more awake, little things came into focus, like how the clouds outside the window rolled along slowly and how the clock's audible ticking kept track of the seconds slipping by. She also realized that she wasn't so cold anymore, his breathing was a bit slower than hers, and because of her head's position on his chest, she hear the soft _pum-pa, pum-pa, pum-pa_ of his heart.

They lay motionless together for who knows how long. The world outside of the bedroom would have been forgotten altogether had other sounds not reached the ears; dishes clinked downstairs, birds chirped outside the window, and the walls gave muffled cracks. A symphony of sounds tied together by two steady breaths inhaling and exhaling, chests rising and falling. It was one of those days in which everything would have been perfectly content with staying stationary forever.

At least, until it was all killed by the simple phrase, "We really should get up."

The cruel sting of reality, as relayed by Angela.

Randall groaned and placed an arm over his eyes. "Too tired. Too comfortable. Impossible."

"Randall, it's late!"

"And it's Saturday."

"Well, I'm getting up."

Angela sat up, ran her hands through her hair, and then stretched. After that, her legs swung over the side of the bed, but before she could stand up one of Randall's arms wrapped around her waist and held her to the mattress' edge. She laughed and crossed her arms.

"What is it now?" she asked.

"I don't want you to go yet."

She slipped out of his grasp and then turned to face him, resting her knees on the ground so their faces could be at the same level.

"Is it usually this difficult to turn you out of bed in the morning?" she asked, brushing a ginger lock off of his forehead and then placing her hand on his cheek. "I should ask Henry. What does he do, threaten to throw all of your archaeology books into the stream?"

"Actually, he dumps a pail of ice water onto my face," he said as he put his hand on hers.

"You're lucky then, waking up to a kiss isn't something you get every day, is it?"

"You're right," he replied. "But maybe someday, every morning could be like this…"

At these words both of their cheeks reddened and Angela turned away to try and hide her face. She felt a bit embarrassed and could not seem to look back at him.

Every morning like this…

Neither said anything for several moments. The clock ticked, the hearts beat fast, and the hands remained on each other.

"Hey, Angela…"

He said it hesitantly, as if trying to find the words to say. Her cheeks were still burning and she felt a little nervous, but glanced up at him, her heart beating a million miles a minute. She only caught a glimpse of a smile before Randall bounded off the mattress and to the bedroom door.

"First to use the bathroom!"

"_Randall!_" she exclaimed, infuriated.

"Haha, sorry Ange!" he replied as he rushed out off the room.

She could not believe him sometimes. He really was the absolute worst.

With a sigh she decided to climb back under the sheets to wait for him to finish getting ready for the day. Pulling the blanket up to her shoulders she nuzzled into the pillows, allowing his scent on the sheets and the warmth of the blanket enveloped her.

Angela closed her eyes contently and smiled. Yes, she decided, he was a drooling, disheveled mess whose teasing drove her mad sometimes, but she loved him anyways. Most dearly.


End file.
